


Late Night Stories

by Bbarbosad



Series: Late Night Stories [1]
Category: None - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 20:49:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4152423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bbarbosad/pseuds/Bbarbosad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Works inspired by authors H.P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allan Poe and a few Brazilian writers. This series has the intent to bring entertaining yet short stories, with an air of mystery and a subtle smell of darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Stories

“Shoot him, shoot him good Roman”, the voice continued, “He deserves it, and you know better than anyone; he killed your little sister, right in his face. Do it.” Bang, bang, bang. Three times, three cold shots right in the face; the warm spray of red life, touching my face, the gunpowder all over my hands, and the blood could be seen everywhere.  
I wake up to find myself wet all over, not on blood this time, but on my own sweat—the same old feeling, fear. The memory that haunted me for years, and from time to time I woke up drowning in my own sweat. I had taken someone’s life, and I regretted it every day; I knew it was wrong, but he did deserve it, after all, he killed my sister. In that moment I had control of it all, and in that moment I was god, that rat, defenseless monster, paid his crimes.  
After sitting up something startled me, the buzzer alarm announced it was time for my day to start. My first day as the lead detective in the force was just beginning, and it would be a long one for sure. I breathed heavily before getting up, insomnia accompanied me every night, and when I could sleep the wildest nightmares found their way into my slumber. I got up and looked around, what had become of this? The walls were sad, not only sad, but they were dead. The mustard yellow walls did not have any life; they simply looked at me indifferently and did not speak as they once did.  
The cold floor apparently had died also, and this all contributed to the qualm this apartment had become. One thing was good about this place, though, I had one of the best views in town, and my kitchen smelled like coffee. I made myself breakfast but did not shower because work had started a few minutes ago.  
“Late ‘gain Roman?” asked the captain. This old man had great fondness of me; he served in the force for many years alongside my father, and after he died the captain made it his mission to take care of me. “You know it’s your firs’ day as detective, don’t you son?” I soon responded, “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.” “Detective Roman Gurnes is your new detective. Today he is your leader, now pay attention to his instructions. Listen well.” Said the captain and then gave some other formalities. The first day of work, I could not expect anything less than chaos, after Lewis’ death there were still several cases opened, and I, as the new detective had the mission to close them.  
I asked the team what case had the most leads up until now, and it was something about a retard who instead of living a normal life decided to disappear with people. I mean, kidnap them, but of course mere speculation and suspicion did not put a man in prison.  
“Detective we have a call on Fayette Street someone said a man that looked like Crahan leaving an apartment right after some domestic fight.” One of my colleagues quickly announced, and with this I needed to go check this out.  
The day was rather obfuscous, though I did not believe in any of this crap, but people in this region used to say ‘the devil works in these days’. Really? The sky gets a little dark and devil prefers it that way. The apartment was somewhat distant part of town, a three story building; time had clearly caught up to this building. The velvety red was slowly dying, and it could be seen the colors fading, the windows getting dirtier.  
We walked up to the front door, there stood an old black lady in a blue dress, she held a blue handkerchief and from time to time brought it up to her mouth, the reason I did not know. “I knew they argued all the time, but today the fight became violent, suddenly, only silence in the room and then this man came out, his eyes had hatred in them. He was full of evil spirits for sure; I called because he looked like the man in the poster near the gas station. But this one had his hair and eyebrows shaved. He was quite disturbing.”  
We walked in, the episode had taken place in the third floor, and unfortunately this building had no elevator. The room looked like mine except for the fact that there was a big pond of blood on the floor. The blood was also sprayed on the walls, it looked like someone used a chainsaw and a baseball bat and a wrecking ball for this job, and I could only think, “Holy crap, these people get more creative each day”. I then spoke to my partner, “Have this blood analyzed and sent to my office by tomorrow”. There was no body, curiously but one thing had been found, it was a note, written in blood in a paper that smelled like cat pee.  
The other day when all evidence had been registered, I could finally read the note, it said: a present to Detective Gurnes, congratulations Roman. A note, to me? I did not even know Lazarus Crahan, nor did I want to get to know him. The people who had disappeared in the last three weeks were the son of the Carlisle’s and the Maurin youngest daughter.  
The children of the most influent families in town had disappeared and now we possibly had a murder, and fascinatingly the third missing person was the granddaughter of the mayor. This clearly was one of those cases of kidnap and I expected to receive a call in a couple of days from Crahan asking for the money.  
But first I needed to understand how Crahan got into that apartment, how in the first place was that girl living in a dump like that, with a suspected kidnapper? I needed to bring in someone who might know something, the lady who called in. “Marcos, can we bring in the crime scene lady? And what about those blood samples?”  
“I’m on it, and the poodle of blood was cat blood Roman the creepy bastard must have killed about three cats to do that. And the one on the note was human blood, and yes it was from the girl in the apartment.” An hour later my partner Marcos brought in the old lady, she again had the handkerchief. I brought her to the interrogatory room, she looked kind of frightened, and I made sure to calm her down.  
She went over the story she had previously told the officer who got to the place. According to her Crahan moved in first, he looked normal, then the cat pee started (for that reason she held the handkerchief, the smell was so strong, she felt it everywhere). After the cat pee smell, the lady arrived, Monica Summers, she never spoke much and after a few days the fighting started and so did Crahan show up all shaved. “You know detective, don’t chase this man. He is dangerous, I never even let him inside my house, the angels never allowed him to.” I looked at her, ignorant creature, then I smiled and responded, “Mrs. Dubois, thanks for your concern, but all this kid stories they don’t scare me. I don’t mean to be rude, but I deal with real evil every day, and I know to count only on my gun and my partner”.  
“If you say so”—then she stopped—be careful now Roman, he will come for you.— it sounded like a man, her voice became rough and said these things almost in a whisper. “Pardon me, what did you say?” she looked really confused, “I’m sorry detective, what do you mean? You know I gotta get goin’ now”. She stood up and left.  
The day had been very tiring, and the night had been very good, this must have been some hallucination. The next day I took Marcos with me to the apartment to look around, there must have been something there that could point me to where Crahan went, or took Monica. The same place, the strong smell of cat urine soon pervaded our senses of smell; all of the doors, I could not help but notice, had this powder, looked like brick powder and it ran right across the threshold. Interestingly, Crahan’s door was the only that did not have the brick powder. Maybe he was into hoodoo, like most New Orleans—who knows?  
After looking around for about half an hour one of officers accompanying us announced there was a call from across the city, which a man looking like Crahan had come out of an abandoned house. I rushed through the door, this was my opportunity to catch this retard and gain back my status with the Captain and the rest of the team; because since some months ago my performance had clearly gone down, thankfully the Captain put me in detective’s position, maybe to make me feel less bad about my father’s death.  
At our arrival there was a great commotion in the middle of the street; witnesses reported that a few minutes after Crahan left, a young boy was hit by a car that escaped. The smell of urine, again. The people seemed way loud, as if they were whispering but loud, “Can you please be silent the boy is in pain! Marcos, call an ambulance now.” Marcos looked at me ironically, “Roman, are you okay? The people are all quiet no one is screaming and the ambulance is about to arrive, calm down.”  
“You call this quiet?!” I could not hear my own thoughts, and Marcos’ sound seemed to fade away, for a moment I was completely deaf, and as I lifted my eyes to try to escape that horrible sensation my eyes caught the eyes of a very pale white man, he had pitch-black eyes, wait, “It’s Crahan! Get him!” The creepy figure smiled and walked out of the crowd, Marcos and two other officers soon ran after him, so did I, just in time my hearing returned. But along with my hearing, there were these weird sounds, it was natural that after a long night of almost no sleep all of this had happened, and now the whispering was also an inevitable consequence.  
The whisperings as I ran sounded like laughs, snakes hissing and it did not stop. As my colleagues lost sight of the fugitive I decided to take him, my opportunity to arrest this lunatic. I saw him walk into a parking lot as I ran after him. He stopped and started walking; I took out my pistol, as I approached him I called out, “Crahan freeze! Backup is on the way, give it up!” He just turned around and looking as if he didn’t just run three blocks nonstop, smiled again, his eyes became all dark and there wasn’t any more of the white to be seen, “Ron, do you believe in spirits? Demons, whatever you want to call it?” “No, I do not, now put your hands on your head—wait, what did you call me?”  
“You heard me well, or was it the whispers, Ron?” He instantly disappeared. What shocked me the most was he calling me Ron, my father called me Ron. Then, how did he disappeared, I found myself lying against the concrete my pistol was gone. The last thing I saw was the police lights, and I heard Marcos desperately calling me.  
I woke up in a hospital bed, Marcos sitting in a chair near the bed. “How are you partner? What was that all about? I know Crahan took your gun.”   
“I don’t know man, maybe it was that because I only drank a cup of coffee and only ate a piece of cake this morning, I must have fainted the minute I caught up to him”. We talked some more, and Marcos told me the old black lady wanted to see me, if it was possible, well it couldn’t hurt to talk to her.   
She came in, put the handkerchief near her mouth and nose, looked at me caringly and asked, “Are you okay son? I told you not to go after him. He is dangerous, he has a bad spirit attached to him, the same who was famous for granting earthly riche... I shouldn’t say it, you know too much and it will hurt you.” That was probably more nonsense but I told her to continue. She kept on, “Well, when these families started their business, they worked together and for some reason they split. As you understand the three, Carlisle, Maurin and Summers starting going broke, and no greedy businessman wants to go broke. They got together and asked the help of a dark spirit; well from there I don’t know much further, you see I only work with the light.”  
More nonsense, as I predicted. Then we talked some more, and when she was about to leave she turned to me and added, “Oh, this is why I warned the others in the building to put brick powder on the entrance, evil spirits don’t get in that way. That man is dangerous.” With that last remark she left the room. Though I had so much to care of and so much stress I ended up falling asleep.  
I woke up in the middle of the night; this place clearly was not the hospital. This looked familiar, this place I identified as my old house where I grew, yes it was definitely it, the same stain where my father shot my mom and then shot himself, there standing in the hall looking at me as I stand in the abandoned living room is Crahan. I wake up, I never left the hospital, and thankfully it was nothing more than a nightmare.   
Something told me, though, there was something about that house, I need to go there. I changed my clothes, fumbled around the little desk by the bed—Marcos had left my car keys for me, what a great partner. I rushed through the halls of the hospital, trying not to make much noise. I got into the car, raced like a jet in the dark nights of that city, out to near the swamps where my house was. When I arrived at the house, there was someone in, there was light inside. I had put myself in a dangerous situation, I did not have my gun; I didn’t call for backup and I ran away from a hospital.  
I passed through the porch, what laid there waiting for me, near the door, my Glock. I opened the door, the creaking of it sounded like a dying cat, of course, there it was, the smell of urine. Right in the center of the living room were the three victims, all tied sitting inside a chalk drawn circle, many artifacts surrounded them, I quickly put the gun on my side and started trying to untie the victims. The more I tried to untie them, the more useless I felt, as the knots didn’t go away. Soon I heard the voice of what seemed like two people speaking at the same time. Crahan.  
He stood there in front of me in a dark tunic, the whispers started again, his eyes totally black and the same smile on his face. I pulled my gun and stood up, “I got you now bastard”. When this last word came out I heard from behind me, “Shoot him, shoot him good Roman”, the voice continued, “He deserves it, and you know better than anyone; he killed your little sister, right in his face. Do it.” My blood ran cold, father? I could not mistake that voice. “How do you think he found your sister?” Crahan asked, “He came to me, Roman. Just as the Summers, the Maurins, and the Carlisles. Different purposes, same price. And here you are, the last one of them the price the Gurnes are about to pay”. I looked confused, he was clearly out of his mind, he must have a mental condition for sure. “Don’t believe me?” He smiled and my father once again spoke, “Shoot him Roman, bang bang bang”. And so it was I could not take this anymore, bang bang bang. Crahan fell, his eyes were normal again. I got my radio and called for backup, but it seemed as though the radio was not working, from the other side I only heard this song by The Rolling Stones, Time’s on My Side. I dropped the radio, the circle caught on fire.  
In that moment, I believed.


End file.
